Lunar Anomaly (Discontinued)
by Calling-Cujo
Summary: The moon. It has a certain majestic quality, can bring about feelings of serenity, and can can constantly screw you over! Join Jason the sex tool as he embarks on his quest to gtfo of the world of Technicolor ponies we know so well in the REVISED REVISED version of Premature Arrival Rated M for a reason, Don't like DON'T READ Eventual OCXLuna


**Lunar Anomaly**

A story written by the glorious bawss Crimson Dawnz

Chapter One: A _BLAZING _START

"Time for my day to get even worse." I said to myself as I got my old suitcase out of the closet. Hmm, I always knew that burlap sack wannabe was a little bi-curious, but never thought it would escalate to such a gay degree. I briefly questioned why I regarded a suitcase in such a manor, but quickly dismissed the thought. I don't have time for thinking like that. It was an old, dusty travel bag that my mom had gotten on her trip to California, and I was never actually planning on using it. Actually, I will never use it. Except this once. Whatever.

We were actually prepared to go on another trip there, but things got a little out of hand. You see, my mom has some old family down there, and a load of friends. And by friends of course I mean high class boot-licking cuntfaces. God, they're annoying. It's always "_If you would be ever so kind as to procure the _(insert ridiculously long and noticeably French word here) _and pass it to me, I would be eternally grateful._" I really, really don't like her friends. But I love my mom, more than anything that could possibly amount to the love between a parent and a child. She's all I got, since I...nevermind. I shuddered a bit and looked back at my suitcase. Thinking about things like that always hurt my brain, along with my heart as well.

I snap my head back to the bag. "GET OVER HERE!" I command in my Scorpion-from-Mortal-Kombat voice. I scrambled over to the other side of the suitcase and heaved against it, making an admirable effort to push it to the other side of the bed. I am no weakling, however, and I probably should have thought that through, as the bag practically flew off the bed and into a nearby wall. Thinking things through isn't really my specialty. In fact, my specialty is... well it's nothing, really. Oh yes, making friends. I was always good at doing that. Well, not really making friends as much as introduction through humor.

A Friend. That's something I could really use right now, considering circumstances I would rather not talk about at this time. I suppose I will tell whatever supernatural force is currently questioning me exactly what bothers me so much in due time, but not now. Sigh. My life really blows. There's always something coming up, always something blocking my path. But, now that I reflect back on that thought, I don't even know where this supposed "Path" even leads. I never really liked doing things because others wanted me to. I just did them to get them off my ass. Everyone always has something to say, and it just bothers me to no end.

I actually feel sorry for myself. Never really grasped that 'Packing' sort of mindset. There are a lot of things I never learned properly. Like how to tie a tie, or folding clothes. Damned sleeves. Anyway, staring at the incredibly half-assed job of packing I did almost frightened me. Amongst the total apocalyptic wasteland of clothes, I was missing something crucial that every man would need. A hat. I quickly call upon the dark forces of my slightly (understatement) dramatic side, I whip around and wail in despair. "Oh woe is me, however would I last without something as meaningless and pointless as a hat?" I turned back around and began my search for my extremely unneeded hat. After a painstaking five second look around the room, I attempted to scratch the top of my head. My efforts were fruitless, however, because my hat was blocking the way. I'm a dumbass. Now I think it's about time that we got formalities and introductions out of the way, don't you think? My name is Jason Summers, a horribly made up name, kudos to the author. I apologize for breaking the 4th wall, but something had to be said. Back to my introduction. I am probably the most popular guy in the field of my school I master, which happens to be humor.

The school that I currently attend at is called Winterfield High, which also happens to be a very generic and uncreative name. My school is a bit... complicated at most, ranging from different tiers of so called "Popularness". As I said before, the tier I am currently on the top of is humor. I can make most anyone laugh, if I know them well enough. I may occasionally stoop to some disgustingly dirty jokes when it comes down to it, but I love making people laugh. That may be why I'm so popular with the ladies. Well, that and my almost unbearable sense of desire and need to make my chosen lady friends feel the most pleasure that our minds and bodies are able to handle. Thinking about it many times before, I have come to the conclusion that I can compare my uncontrollable lust to the bloodthirsty behavior of a werewolf. Yeah, that seems about right.

Speaking of being the god of lust, I remembered how bad I needed some decent women in my life. Too bad I'm leaving, or I would have looked into reconsidering an active love life again. I always had really bad relationships, or maybe it was just that I was really bad at judging character. I was always really bad with that. I usually would end up in relationships where they women only wanted sex and nothing else, occasionally taking my money in the process of screwing me over. Ah whatever, back to packing. Looking around my room, I spot some things that I would rather never be without. An item of this higher purpose for instance, would be my lucky dollar comb, which coincidentally cost me a dollar. However, I always seemed to come across good luck when it's on me, which is one of the only reasons I keep the damn thing on me. As an example, I caught a thief in my apartment one time and he only shot me in the shoulder, instead of killing me. That was lucky. I also happen to spot my awesomely designed Zippo lighter. Ace of Spades is something one should always want on their person, and mine was on my lighter. Even if I ran out of lighter fluid, I would still keep it, for nostalgic purposes. After stuffing that in my pocket, I pick up the comb and take off my hat, combing the mass river of hair that covers my face most of the time. God, long hair is annoying. Turning to the mirror, I gave myself a once over. It was alright, so I stuffed that POS in my pocket as well. I really need a new one. I found my pack of cigarettes and put that in my back pocket, along with the wallet I had lying around beside it. Don't even get me started on how hard smoking is to kick.

Wow, that took a lot out of me, packing and such. I briefly looked over my work, which is less than satisfactory. I have unsuccessfully packed nothing but clothes. Seeing that I don't have anything of importance or worth taking with me, I suppose that's alright. Raising my hand up, I attempted the meager task of closing the lid on the almost deteriorating shitcase -I mean suitcase- and find it… incredibly easy. Because the lid just snapped off. Well that lasted long, a whole twenty minutes in fact, according to my wristwatch. That measly piece of shit surpassed my expectations 20fold. I was just about to go downstairs and find my cell phone when my eyes locked on to something pulsating beside me. I turned my head, allowing my wandering senses to assess the oddity before me, which I had yet to notice during my numerous looks around my room. It appeared to be some sort of flashing orb, with an almost comically cartoonish look to it, although completely real.

It was of a dark crimson hue, the richest scarlet from the most passionate kiss. Only the darkest of loves could contain such impure threads of read this orb contained. It also had an indent of what appeared to be a completely black rose, encompassed by a tongue, almost if outright symbolizing sex itself. At least, that is what it reminded me of. The strangest thing, however is how oddly misplaced it seemed to be, nestled in my bed sheets. As before, its cartoonish nature gave it the impression that it didn't belong, that it came from somewhere completely different then where it had ended up altogether. I lifted it up to my eyes for closer inspection when the strange artifact gave a shudder, and I began to feel the life sucked out of me. It was almost like an orgasm in reverse, an analogy which is completely out of place and makes absolutely no sense whatsoever. The mysterious feeling could also be related to a sort of 'Syphoning' if you will. And suddenly I dropped to the floor.

_**Hey hey, how's it going bros? I just got a new laptop, so expect regular updates within at most a week. This is the final revision for the first chapter, and I will start making headway with the story soon, including the good stuff like plot development, homestuck references, OC Background, all that shit. And of course, random sex. As you could probably tell, this fag is destined for great things. Stay tuned, and peace out.**_


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